


Mobilizing

by CongratulationsBaby



Series: Australia's Prize Catch [9]
Category: Wentworth (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-08
Updated: 2020-10-08
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:01:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26893369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CongratulationsBaby/pseuds/CongratulationsBaby
Summary: Set a few days after 'Drunk and Disorderly' in same A/U where Franky is a contestant of a reality TV show and Bridget is the Production Assistant assigned to her.Kim Chang gets a surprise visitor, while Vera orchestrates a quick reunion between Franky and Bridget.
Relationships: Franky Doyle/Bridget Westfall
Series: Australia's Prize Catch [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1832278
Comments: 6
Kudos: 29





	Mobilizing

**Author's Note:**

> A/N
> 
> Hi all!
> 
> Long time since I updated this one, but with '3:24am' now finished, I can dedicate more time to this series and 'Hearts on a String'.
> 
> Thanks to everyone who has read, commented on, kudos'ed, and generally enjoyed this series so far!
> 
> This is set 2 days after 'Drunk and Disorderly' and it's rated T for some swearing, but nothing much else, so... enjoy this instalment!
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own Wentworth or any of the characters, you know, the usual 'don't sue me' content.

**Mobilizing**

Kim walked toward the Hot Seat interview room, her sweaty hands clutching at the memo from Vera. She had received it just this morning from Linda, whose permanent disinterested expression gave nothing away when Kim asked what it was about. The note was simple.

_Chang,_

_Hot Seat Interview Room at 2pm. We need to talk._

_Miss Bennett_

And so as the clock chimed 2pm, Kim stood outside of the interview room, shifting her weight from foot to foot as her hand reached out to the doorknob time and time again before pulling back. Was Miss Bennett mad? She had followed the script just as she was asked, though she regretted it now. Knowing that she had dredged up a veritable shit-storm with her heartfelt and entirely scripted interview did not sit as well with her as she had initially hoped. She had been pissed at Franky, sure, and she wanted revenge for being _embarrassed_ like that. Kim had put everything on the line and Franky had thrown it back in her face, sneering as she did so.

Okay, so maybe _not_ sneering… but still.

The opportunity handed to her by Miss Bennett was too good to pass up, a salve on the stinging, jagged cut that Franky had rendered when she ripped her heart right out. Kim had been angry and she had acted on it. However, following the interview and laying awake in the dark that night and each night since, she had to wonder if she was really vindicated in what she had done.

And now Miss Bennett wanted to see her.

Three days before elimination, an elimination that she knew was fixed in every possible way to rid the mansion and the public of Franky Doyle. The Chief Executive Joan Ferguson had come to her before Kim had been given the script, and had explained that the public needed to see the real Kim Chang, said that Franky had manipulated and played with her from the start. She said that the public needed a villain and that at the moment Kim was that villain.

But she wasn’t a villain. At least, she didn’t feel like she was.

Now, however, when she knew the public was turning against Franky, she had never felt more like the villain from the stories her mum had told her when she was little.

With a deep breath, Kim opened the door and stepped inside the room.

She walked toward the seat and was unsurprised when she saw movement out of the corner of her eye.

“Miss Bennett,” she started, “I-“

Bridget Westfall stepped out from behind the cameras and Kim could see the exhaustion and resolve painted across her features in equal measure. She was bloodied but unbowed apparently.

“What are _you_ doing here?” Kim automatically snapped, feeling like she had been put on the back foot and not liking that feeling. No, she did not like that feeling at all.

Why had Miss Bennett put her in a room with this woman? Did she even know-?

“What have you done to Miss Bennett?”

Bridget smiled wryly, her steely blue eyes scanning Kim’s face.

“Do you have any idea what you’ve done?” She asked, and her tone was gentle. Kim didn’t want gentle, she didn’t _deserve_ gentle.

“I don’t know what you-“

“-you know what I mean, Kim,” Bridget interrupted, “don’t play games. Do you have any idea what you’ve done? Not just to Franky, look at you.”

She gestured at Kim, up and down.

“You’re clearly suffering.”

“What’s it to _you!?”_ Kim shouted. Bridget didn’t react, she had all the confirmation she needed apparently and switched tact. It’s what made her a good Production Assistant, Kim knew; Bridget always adapted.

“You’re in love with her,” Bridget stated, “and you’re hurting.”

Kim wiped her nose with her sleeve, not deigning to respond.

“You see, Kim, we actually have a lot in common, because I’m in love with her too.”

Kim remained silent.

“I know how you feel right now because I’m hurting too,” Bridget continued, now taking a cautious step closer, “but the difference between us at this moment, Kim, is how we’re handling that.”

“ _Fuck_ you,” Kim seethed, “you look worse than I do so how the hell do you think you’re handling it any better?”

“Because I’m only hurting myself.”

Bridget paused.

“You’re hurting Franky too with what you’re doing, and I need you to understand what this will do to her. What you’ve been complicit in… it will _crush_ her. You think it will end here, in this mansion? Franky will be stalked by paparazzi, she’ll be set up for cheap stories, and she will be passed over time and time again for jobs, all because they won’t want the hassle of such a publicly divisive figure. You know what reality TV is like on the outside. This will follow her, and it could ruin everything she has tried to build in her life.”

“I-“ Kim wanted to say _I don’t care._ She wanted to say _I don’t give a single fuck about what this will do to Franky, I want her out of my life,_ “I-I can’t sleep… I just think about that interview and what the public must think… I don’t know what to do.”

She felt hot tears splash down her cheeks as she muffled a sob into her sleeve and Kim never saw Bridget move closer until she felt the arms wrap around her, holding her up.

“It’s okay, Kim,” Bridget soothed, just holding her, “it’s going to be okay.”

“H-how?” Kim cried out between heaving sobs, “How can I make this _right_? I never thought it would go like this!”

“Do you really want to make it right?” Bridget asked her seriously, pulling away and looking Kim in the eyes, “are you prepared to redeem yourself?”

“I’m prepared,” Kim breathed, “Please, _please,_ I need to help. I’ll do anything, I just don’t want to feel like a villain anymore.”

Bridget nodded her head toward the cameras behind her.

“Then we have work to do, and fast.”

****

“Doyle.”

“Fuck sake,” Franky muttered as she dropped her law book into her lap and rolled her eyes, hearing a voice she had hoped never would grace her ears again. She thought she’d made it obvious that she wanted nothing to do with Vera _fucking_ Bennett after their last encounter two days ago in the mansion kitchen.

The encounter in which Vera had revealed that Franky was public enemy number _one_ and that she had been complicit in doing that… which was _also_ the encounter in which Franky had been informed that Bridget no doubt knew of this latest twist and likely was thinking the worst. The very same encounter in which Franky was told that she was supposedly having a hot and steamy affair with one Allie Novak, no doubt helping piss of one of her best friends, Bea Smith, in the process if she believed the trashy tabloids.

Yeah, that encounter. 

A short and direct knock on the door, absolutely reflective of Vera’s no-nonsense nature.

“Doyle, are you in there?”

“What d’ya want?” Franky shouted out angrily. She was tired, so tired. She knew that she was going to be eliminated this week, Vera had forewarned her of that much, and so she had spent the last couple of days trying to keep her head down, desperately coming up with any way that she could to find Bridget on the outside after this clusterfuck and just explain, if Bridget would even let her.

She wanted to explain that these women who had now thrown themselves at the local magazines and newspapers had meant _nothing_ to her, that they were warm bodies when Franky was at her worst. She had never told them she loved them (she wondered if that was Ferguson’s idea to stoke the flames that way, probably); in fact, she’d never used those words on any woman before Bridget. Franky wasn’t proud of her past, but she owned it. If Kim Chang, Joan _fucking_ Ferguson, and every person who tuned in to this shitty show wanted to hate her for what she had done, then they could hate her. She just needed Bridget to understand. Franky could survive the media frenzy if she had just one person in her corner.

“ _Doyle,_ ” Vera’s grating voice brought Franky out of her thoughts, “I know you don’t want to talk me right now, but I need you to come with me. You have a Hot Seat interview.”

She had had one of those yesterday, nice try Vera.

“Fuck off!” Franky hollered, picking her book up again.

“Trust me, Franky,” Vera’s voice returned, this time a lot softer and the use of her first name certainly piqued her interest, “you’ll want to attend this interview.”

Franky sighed and dropped her book one final time, shifting off of her bed and moving toward the door. She opened it and a startled Vera greeted her, her hand up mid-knock and her mouth agape at the fact that her last plea had worked.

“Well c’mon then,” Franky gestured toward the hallway, “let’s get this the fuck over with.”

****

The walk to the Hot Seat interview room was, thankfully, short and Vera didn’t attempt to make any conversation. When they reached the door, Vera paused and turned round to face Franky.

“I can only offer you ten minutes,” she apologised sincerely. Franky looked at her in confusion, knowing that the interviews usually took between twenty and thirty minutes. Why the fuck would Vera schedule an interview if she couldn’t even give her the full time? Not that she was complaining, of course.

Vera gave her a small smile before turning the doorknob and pushing the door open. Franky stepped into the room and heard the door close softly behind her.

It was darker inside than usual, the only light switched on above the Hot Seat itself, whereas usually the entire room was bathed in light and chatter and the steady buzz of the industry. Franky moved toward the chair, uncertain what she was doing here. It was then that she heard a sigh, soft and melodic:

“ _Franky._ ”

That voice. Franky had nightmares that she would never hear that voice again. Nightmares in which she would leave the house and spend days, months, _years,_ trying to track down that beautiful voice and be left with nothing. And yet there it was, _that_ voice, and out of the shadows stepped the enchanting woman that the voice belonged to.

Bridget _fucking_ Westfall.

Franky lurched forward without thinking, her instinct just screaming at her to be in those arms and in that embrace for the rest of her life. She’d find sanctuary there.

She didn’t realise she was crying until she heard the soft, “ _oh, baby”_ and felt Bridget’s hands wipe gently at her cheeks, before wrapping her arms around her and bringing her home. They rocked together slowly, neither one wanting to break the cocoon they had formed, and Franky felt moisture track down Bridget’s own cheeks and heard her own sniffles, as she buried her face into Franky’s shoulder.

“Fuck, Gidge,” Franky uttered, breaking the silence.

“Mmmm,” was all the affirmation she received that Bridget had heard her, but she felt her smile.

“I’ve fucking missed you so much.”

“I’ve _fucking_ missed you too.”

Franky pulled away reluctantly, continuing to hold Bridget around her waist and swaying them on the spot. Her eyes traced every feature on Bridget’s face, wanting to memorise everything she could in case this was goodbye. After all, they had yet to acknowledge the elephant in the room.

“What are you thinking?” Bridget whispered.

“I’m thinking that if this is the last time I see you, I don’t wanna waste it,” Franky admitted just as quietly, “can I kiss you?”

Bridget exhaled, her breath shaky, and gave a small nod in response. Franky brought her face down cautiously, waiting for any sign of resistance, but when Bridget’s eyes closed, her neck craning slightly to reduce the distance, Franky gave in and sealed Bridget’s lips in a searing kiss.

She heard a moan reverberate in Bridget’s throat as her tongue darted out immediately, seeking entry. Bridget granted it and Franky sighed into the kiss, feeling the familiar flickers of desire rise up, mixed with the relief and warmth that always came with Bridget’s lips on hers. It was both thrilling and comforting, a heady mix that Franky would never get over.

They continued desperately for a minute, neither wanting to separate or even pause for breath and it was only when she felt Bridget’s hand squeeze her waist that Franky released her. She leant down and rested her forehead against Bridget’s, both panting slightly.

“I could definitely get used to that,” Bridget smiled.

Franky felt the tendrils of fear slowly make their way back up and squeeze her heart.

“Could you?” she asked brokenly, battling between wanting to know and never wanting this moment to end.

Confusion crossed Bridget’s face for just a second before Franky saw her blue eyes clear, understanding and reassurance painted plainly in them.

“Yes,” she said emphatically, “I could.”

Franky let out a breath she didn’t know she had been holding and pulled Bridget back into her embrace.

“We need to talk,” she heard Bridget murmur into her shoulder, “we don’t have a lot of time… but I’m enjoying this too much.”

“So talk like this,” Franky responded cheekily and she heard a huff of laughter, “c’mon Gidge, tell me just how much of a social pariah I am outside of these walls.”

Bridget tensed.

“Public opinion is pretty bad,” she conceded, pulling back and looking Franky in the eye, “Ferguson has managed to pull a lot of women out of the woodwork and they’re playing you off as a serial cheater _and_ harlot.”

Franky sighed, her brow furrowed.

“How many women are we talking?”

“Double digits.”

“Shit… Gidge, I’m-“

“-No, Franky, please don’t-“

“-let me finish.”

Bridget fell silent, her protests dying. Franky took a deep breath.

“I’m not proud of what I’ve done, yeah? I’ve hurt a lot of people, I know that… but I need you to know that _this,_ us, it’s real for me. I don’t know how the freak Ferguson managed to get these women to talk, but I have _never_ thrown around the L word like that. Before I met you, I don’t even think I knew what love was.”

Now it was Franky’s turn to gently wipe the tears falling down Bridget’s cheeks and she did so tenderly.

“I love ya, Gidge. You’re it for me and I’m _so_ sorry you’ve got caught up in my shit.”

Bridget sniffed and nodded, her watery smile radiant.

“And I love you,” she said softly, “and no matter what, we’re in this together. Okay?”

Franky laughed and nodded.

“So, it looks like I’m on my way out,” Franky gazed around at the room, “I’ll miss this room I think, funny that. I knew I’d miss the make-up room, after all it’s where I cornered you for our first kiss. Didn’t think I’d miss this room though.”

“Good memories,” Bridget too glanced around, “but baby, I need you to fight to stay in, okay?”

“With Kim and Ferguson and fucking _Vera_ conspiring against me? And the public hating me? Nuh.”

“Vera isn’t conspiring against you, she’s changed.”

“Still…”

“Look,” Bridget said seriously, “we’re fighting this on the outside, we need _you_ to show the public your best self. Just be _you,_ Franky. No more hiding away, no more moping. The audience need to see the _real_ you.”

Franky nodded, though she remained pessimistic. There was only three days before Elimination, how on earth could there be a drastic turnaround in that time?

“I’ve spoken to Kim,” Bridget muttered, reading Franky so capably it made her heart burst with joy, “we’ve recorded a new interview to go out as soon as possible. Vera is taking it to editing as soon as we’re done here, she’ll go right above Ferguson’s head.”

“… and the women?” Franky asked, uncertain.

“Do you think I’ve been sitting on my arse the last two days?” Bridget smiled, “it’s not exactly been a vacation meeting _so_ many of your exes in such a short space of time, but worth it, I think. Ferguson offered them cash incentives on top of the money for their stories, believe it or not.”

Franky rolled her eyes. _Of course. Fucking freak._

“It’s a work in progress,” Bridget admitted, “but I think we’ve had some impact and we’re looking at a lot more positive coverage now.”

“And Red? Have you spoken to Red about Allie?”

Franky went to Allie as soon as Vera had informed her of the ‘scandal’, knowing that this would also affect her budding romance with Bea. Allie was shocked and appalled that they had been used like that, her anger mixing with her fear of never being able to contact Bea and shifting quickly to boiling point. Franky had calmed her down slightly, knowing that she too was in the same situation with Bridget, and both had discussed the situation often over the last two days. She needed to get something to Allie from Bea, even a small note or a few words, so Allie didn’t give up hope.

“Nuh,” Bridget shook her head, “you’ve been my priority Franky-“

“-Please get a hold of Red somehow, Allie is going stir crazy not knowing.”

She felt Bridget tense again and knew that this particular part was still not sitting well with her.

“I’m not fucking Allie,” Franky reassured her, smiling gently, “I’m in love with _you,_ and Allie is in love with Red. I had the chance to speak to you today, don’t you want Allie to have the same hope?”

Bridget nodded slowly, and Franky sighed in relief.

“I’ll find out her details from Vera and get a message.”

“Thanks, Gidge.”

“Time’s nearly up,” Bridget pulled away, but not before placing a swift and reassuring kiss to her lips, “just hang in there, okay? You haven’t got long left so don’t do anything to fuck it up. I’ll be waiting for you, I promise.”

“I know.”

And Franky really _did_ know.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you all enjoyed the little reunion, hopefully only 2 or 3 left to go for the main story and then I can do some smaller one-shots of different points in the series.
> 
> As before, constructive criticism etc. is more than welcome and again, any suggestions or prompts or anything you'd like to read, feel free to throw it at me :) 
> 
> Please let me know what you think if you have a chance, but I am just grateful to you all for reading :)
> 
> \- CB


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